


Cinch's Journal

by propheticfire



Series: The Adventures of Phire Brigade [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Cinch is trying to work some things out, Diary/Journal, Gen, Introspection, POV First Person, Phire Brigade, even if he doesn't exactly know what he's doing, the rest of Phire Brigade gets mentioned from time to time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propheticfire/pseuds/propheticfire
Summary: The ongoing journal of clone trooper CT-4738, Cinch. Former member of the 501st. Current member of special clone squad Phire Brigade.





	1. Chapter 1

~~ _Private Journal_ ~~

~~ _Cinch’s Journal_ ~~

 

~~ _Journal of CT-4738_ ~~

 

~~ _Journal of “Cinch”, CT-4738_ ~~

 

Personal Journal of Trooper CT-4738  
“Cinch”

 

~~ _Location: Coruscant_ ~~

~~ _Current Location: Coruscant_ ~~

 

~~ _Coruscant - Residential District_ ~~

~~ _Coruscant - Apartment_ ~~

Coruscant -  ~~ _home???_ ~~

 

 

 

 **Personal Journal of Trooper CT-4738  
** **“Cinch”  
** **Coruscant - Home  
** **23:17 hours**

 

I read somewhere that writing down your thoughts can be helpful. I couldn’t find any regulation that said I wasn’t allowed to, so I thought I’d try it. I don’t really know what I’ll write about. Maybe it will just help to get things down concretely, and out of my head. I’ve been told I have too much going on in my head.

(I’ve been told a lot of things about my head.)

We just got back from helping some of General Mundi’s guys, and it was bad. The Seps had a platoon of them pinned down in the valley, and were picking them off from this control tower. We came in where we thought the Seps hadn’t spotted us and set up position. But the Seps had these new electromag charges, which they deployed to weaken the platoon, and they disabled our gear too. I was able to work with that all right after some time, but they fried Peale’s implants too, so he couldn’t hear us anymore. And Nimbus’ hand. Once I got the HUDs up and working again, our strategic position had lost its effectiveness, so we had to scrap the plan and come up with something on the fly. I have to hand it to Peale; he’s good under pressure. (So much better than me.) But even he can only do so much when he can’t see our mouths to lipread and is trying to split his attention between the speech-to-text scrawling across his HUD _and_ our hand signals _and_ what’s going on around us. And yet somehow we managed to knock out the control tower and get our brothers out of there.

I guess maybe I’m supposed to write how I feel about it. I feel good. I guess. We saved some people again. There’s nothing like knowing your brothers are going to come home safely. Er, _back_ safely. We don’t really have homes.

_They_ don’t really have homes. I’m different. I’m different now. I belong somewhere now. At least, as long as I keep doing my duty. The other guys are good to me though. They don’t get on me about my face. They haven’t kicked me out yet, anyway. Mousetrap is a good kid, even if he doesn’t shut up. (I’ll never say this to him, but I like that he talks to me. It’s nice to be included.)

But I have a home, now, and a lot of other troopers don’t. And I don’t know how I feel about that. As much as I care about my squad, sometimes I wish I could go back. I’m a trooper; I should be on the front lines with everybody else. But I don’t fit in there anymore. And I don’t fit in with civilian life either. So I don’t really deserve to have a home, because that’s a civilian thing. But I read somewhere that there’s a difference between _deserving_ something and _having_ something. People don’t always deserve what the have. People don’t always have what they deserve. The more time I spend on Coruscant, the more I realize that life in the rest of the galaxy isn’t as black and white as it was in my training. There’s a lot more than just, “There’s the enemy; point and shoot.” I don’t know if I’ll ever understand all the layers. But I guess that’s part of it: seeing the layers in the first place.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I suppose I’ll stop now. I can always write more again, if I feel like it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Personal Journal of Trooper CT-4738**   
**"Cinch"**   
**Coruscant - Home**   
**18:33 hours**

Peale told me the lady in the caffa shop asked about me again today. He said she asked, "Where's your brother?" and she said, "Tell him to come get his caf himself next time." Peale made it sound like she was teasing, but I've been thinking about that, actually. About how I should probably stop asking them to go out and get me caf. We have caf here anyway; it isn't really fair to ask them to go get me a special kind just because I won't show my face outside.

Been thinking about that too. All the walls here are glass. So I'm always catching my reflection, no matter what room I'm in. And there's a mirror in each 'fresher, of course, and there's a big mirror in the common room too--I guess civvies call it a living room. About the only place I don't see my face staring back at me is in the laundry room or the hallways.

And it wouldn't be--I mean, lots of guys have scars, right? I just think it wouldn't be such a big deal if every time I saw myself I didn't think about the caffa shop lady. She probably forgot what I really look like. But I don't. I can't. I see myself all the time in all this glass, and every time, I can't help thinking that I'm just so...

~~Well who's gonna love a face that looks like mine?~~

I want someone to be interested in me. I do. But it isn't fair to them either. They deserve to find somebody beautiful. Beautiful people deserve each other. And it's selfish of me to wish somebody beautiful would want me. It's selfish of me to wish I could be with the caffa shop lady. Even though Peale tells me she wants to see me again. But she's probably just being nice. She was nice. And pretty. And she looked soft. And she deserves so much better than me.

I should just start wearing my bucket inside too. Then I wouldn't have to be reminded of how much I don't deserve her.

Should I have written this down? I don't know. I don't really feel like it helped anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Personal Journal of Trooper CT-4738  
** **“Cinch”  
** **Coruscant - Home  
** **19:47 hours**

Sometimes it feels like a thousand tiny needles stabbing me from the inside. It feels like my chest constricts, and then a wave of needles rolls through my body. It feels numb too. And cold. And tears come, even if I don’t want them to, even if I try to fight it. And sometimes my chest hurts so much that I make this whimpering noise. I can’t help it.

Medically, there’s nothing wrong with me. (Except for the burns, of course. And the eye. But I don’t have any diseases or anything, so there’s “nothing wrong with me.”) But I get like this sometimes. This aching, shooting wave of pain. And it feels like there’s this great emptiness on the other side. Like I ride it out, and then after it’s gone there’s nothing. Just, nothing. Void. Until another round hits. I know it’s something, something wrong. I know I’m not supposed to feel like this. I never felt like this before. I wasn’t _defective_ before.

(Clearly I am now. Guess I’m just lucky the GAR kicked me out instead of putting me down.)

I’ve been in my room most of the day. I don’t want the other guys to see me like this. I hope they can’t hear it when I end up whimpering; I don’t want them to know why I’m in here. Hopefully they think I’m just tinkering with something.

I’m not even tinkering with something. I could be doing that, but I’m not. I can’t seem to find the energy. I don’t know why; it’s like I don’t even care. I like doing that, but it feels like… I don’t know, like it’s not what I need, or something. I’m just…lonely. I feel like I want to talk to someone, get to know someone, care about someone. And have someone care about me. I want to be alone, but I also want to be with someone. I can’t explain it. I feel like I’m missing something that I’m supposed to have. Like it’s not that I just _want_ it; more like there’s an empty place where it _should be_. I don’t know. 

I hope we get another mission soon. I don’t know how much more sitting around I can do. But at the same time, I don’t know if I could function right now. It’s…scary. Writing that down. It scares me. Why am I like this? How did this happen?

I don’t want to write anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Personal Journal of Trooper CT-4738  
“Cinch”  
Coruscant - Home  
** **11:02 hours**

Hi. Me again. It’s been a while since I wrote last. Sorry. (Am I supposed to be apologizing? It feels like I should. I don’t know why.) I’ve been feeling better. Than last time I wrote, anyway. We’ve done a few missions since then, been gone a lot. One was…not good. We tried to extract some crashed pilots, but by the time we got there the Seps had found them, and… But we evacuated some civilians one other time, and we ran surveillance for this one op that needed extra eyes. Peale got to do some sniping again finally. He was happy.

Anyway, I’m writing because we have this new guy now. Big guy, pushing 2 meters at least. Something happened with his growth cycle, apparently; he just didn’t stop at 10 years like the rest of us did. Or that’s what I heard. Got dropped off with a comm message from our patron, telling us to take good care of him. He’s been through some reconditioning, and you can really tell, because he’s kind of vacant. Not as in he doesn’t know what he’s doing; he’s every bit a trooper. But the rest of us have some kind of…personality? Is that the word I want? And he just…doesn’t. The other guys have been calling him Reboot, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

(It makes me uncomfortable though, when I think about it. To think that any one of us could have ended up like that, if it hadn’t been for Phire Brigade.)

But there’s something else about this new guy that just doesn’t seem quite right. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s because of the reconditioning. But sometimes when he looks at you, it feels like he’s looking _through_ you. Or into you. Like he’s trying to read a holochart from the opposite side. And he just…he’s got the keenest soldier sense. Maybe they’re flash training that now, I don’t know. Makes me wonder what he was like before the reconditioning. He always seems to know where the other guys are in the house. And the other day…

Okay the other day I had one of those…moods, again. I don’t know what to call them. I said I was doing better, but I still had one. I’m sorry. But I was in my room, and I’m _sure_ I wasn’t making any noise, and then Reboot knocked on my door, and he said something like, “You okay, _vod?_ Don’t be sad. There’s cookies in the kitchen.”

Maybe it was a lucky guess. But I still can’t figure out how he would have even guessed that. I do all my tech work in my room. Why did he think I was sad?

I haven’t talked to the other guys about it yet. About Reboot, I mean. About what I think.I just want to know if they’ve noticed it too. The other day Mousetrap knocked something off the kitchen counter and Reboot caught it. I think it was fruit; I don’t remember exactly. But I was on the couch and I just happened to see it, and I swear, I _swear_ , Reboot’s hand was there before Mousetrap even turned. I swear.

Anyway, that’s the new guy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Personal Journal of Trooper CT-4738  
** **“Cinch”  
** **Coruscant - Home  
** **18:06 hours**

Sometimes I just…hate everything. Sometimes I wish I weren’t here.

Should I be talking about this? I don’t know if I should keep talking about this. There’s still part of me that thinks I’ll get sent back to Kamino and reconditioned if it gets found, even though I know I’m safe here. And I don’t know why I keep talking about the same thing. I can’t seem to talk about anything else. This journal is nothing but me complaining. Maybe this whole idea was stupid.

I didn’t go on the last mission. I couldn’t. I just… I couldn’t. Sometimes I think I’m getting better, and then sometimes ~~ I feel so much worse ~~ ~~ I feel like there’s no point in trying ~~ ~~ I feel like I’ve always been a mess ~~ I get in a mood again. I hate that. I hate how useless I feel. I hate how I can’t even get out of bed to mess with my tech stuff. I hate how the 'fresher is right across the hall and I can’t even open my door to take a shower. I hate that Ruby and Tye are here all the time now. I used to have things to myself but now there’s always someone here to see me be such a mess. I hate that everyone seems to have it together except for me.

I’m scared I’m turning into Leeds.

He hated everything too.


End file.
